Free. My payroll had granted me the freedom I sought after for so long. A sentence bestowed upon me for the murder of a man named Dane Bellows.
Was I guilty? No. I covered the tracks of another and filthied my own with guilty footprints. They had given me a new name, Luke Jameson. Looking at that name on paper gave me an uneasy feeling, if was like looking at a detached personality something I had to take on in order to live a free and easy life. The death of Bellows was all over the news, the press where hungry for justice and I had to take the fall. Who whom? For her.
Why hadn’t she called? I took the fall, why didn’t she even try to call? Guilt? Maybe she was afraid I would lash out ...view middle of the document...
“Hello” I know that voice straight away, slightly weathered, probably from cigars. “Alex...My brother. It’s me” “I’m sick of these prank calls” “Alex, no, it’s really me, they let me go, please Alex. I’m outside the Grose Bar. Can you come meet me, I need you brother. I need your help”
He doesn’t reply, the phone is put down. I feel lost and confused by his response. Half an hour passes and a blue convertible parks up on the side of the road, and out he steps, my brother. Boy have the years aged him, his hair is streaking with
silver and his eyes look more weary. I want to hug him but he ushers me to the side.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, I needed to use the pay phone”
“No here brother, why are you out?!” His tone was hostile. I was confused.
He kept looking around as though he was ashamed that people may recognise me.
“I thought you would be happy, Al, I thought you’d be pleased to see me”
Alex looked at me, and sighed. “I am, It’s just, You took someones life, It’s against my morals that you should be out, living a life when you took someone else's"
I sighed. I’d been called a murderer for 30 years. I wasn’t that. “I need you to take me to see her. She’ll explain everything. I promise” Alex looked at me. Hesitant with his words. “She’s not here anymore, she left”
An insult. Her ungratefulness cut through me like a knife wound, deep enough to cause pain, not deep enough to kill me. I would find her, I’d make sure of it. Now it was time to catch up with my brother in the Grose Bar. He bought me drinks and I was happy to drink them. My lack of alcohol over the years meant that it hit me like a spud gun in the back of my head. I was pure, stinking drunk. My brothers phone rang, he answered it, I could hear the dainty voice on the other end.
“I’m outside the Grose, I saw your car. You’re not drinking again are you?” That voice sent...